


Prowl&Jazz Oneshots

by elfqueen13



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bad Puns, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Calling for Pickup, Common Cold, Crash Landing, Doppelganger, Explosions, Flowers, Gen, Infiltration, Knitting, Language of Flowers, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mistaken Identity, Puns & Word Play, Sneezing, Souvenirs, Standard Formatting, getting a ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfqueen13/pseuds/elfqueen13
Summary: A collection of oneshots and ficlets in various universes based off an assortment of prompts, all featuring our favourite Autobot Command couple.Updates weekly on Mondays.
Relationships: Bluestreak & Jazz & Prowl (Transformers), Bluestreak & Jazz (Transformers), Bluestreak & Prowl, Buzzsaw & Frenzy & Laserbeak & Ratbat & Ravage & Rumble & Soundwave (Transformers), Cassettes & Soundwave, Elita One/Optimus Prime, Hound/Mirage, Inferno & Red Alert, Jazz/Prowl, Jetfire | Skyfire/Starscream (Transformers), Ratchet/Wheeljack (Transformers), Ravage/Steeljaw, Skywarp & Starscream & Thundercracker (Transformers), Skywarp/Thundercracker (Transformers)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 101





	1. The Importance of Good Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should have thought to clarify this before starting to post these, but better late than never. This chapter has been placed as the first after the fact.

“Prime!” Prowl barked as the leader of the Autobots strode past his open office door.

“Good afternoon Prowl,” he greeted amiably. “Did you need something?”

“Yes,” the tactician said flatly, pulling a datapad from his desk drawer and thrusting it at his Commander without looking up from the one in front of him. “As per my _repeated_ requests, please ensure you format all your files and reports as such.”

Optimus glanced down at it:

Narration/Exposition

“Spoken aloud”

_'Thoughts'_

::Comm chatter::

~Bond-speak~

“I-”

Prowl raised his helm, narrowed amber optics glaring pointedly. “ _Prime_ ,” he said warningly.

“Of course Prowl,” he acknowledged, taking the datapad and hurriedly exiting the office, lest he further incur his SIC's administrative wrath.

Because while Prowl was a dutiful, respectful subordinate, the Datsun frequently found himself the single most competent member of his entire faction, a matter he often commiserated over with Soundwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an apology for being gone so long. We now return you to your regularly scheduled once-a-week-or-more updates.


	2. Reorganization

Sideswipe frowned in confusion as he entered Prowl's office. “I thought I was done yesterday,” he said. “I definitely remember getting to the end of the shelf - I'm not imagining it, right?”

“Would you care to repeat the precise terms of your punishment detail?” Prowl prompted.

“Uh, ‘You are to assist Prowl in the organization and filing of this month's reports and files,’?” he quoted, thinking back to what Optimus had said.

“Precisely,” the SIC confirmed, pulling a second datapad from the shelf to cross-reference his current reading material.

“But it's the third today!”

“Yes, and there are a number of reports for the battle on the 24th that I only received yesterday. As they are from last month, they fall under the purview of your penalty.” He pointed at a box of datapads in front of his desk.

“But- but-” Sideswipe gaped. “That'll mean reorganizing ALL OF THEM!”

“Well then,” Prowl said mildly. “You had best get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I write and post these, a vague timeline may emerge, or a new chapter might relate to a couple of older ones. In these cases, the chapters will be rearranged.


	3. In about three seconds you are going to hear a very loud noise. Do not be alarmed.

“This hallway leads to the officers’ quarters, and if you take that lift down a level, you will come to the quarters for the crew,” Prowl said. Being SIC, he'd been saddled with the task of touring the visiting human dignitaries (alone, since Jazz had ditched him). Continuing on their way, they passed the Command wing.

“All the vital departments are down this way.”

“Such as?” a woman asked.

“Central Command, Tactical, Intel, Communications, Security,” Blaster supplied, striding past with Steeljaw at his heel struts.

“That was Blaster, our head of Communications,” Prowl explained. “Here is the Medbay, domain of our CMO Ratchet; you will meet him later.”

“Where does that go?” one of the humans asked, pointing down the hallway opposite Medbay.

“That is the science wing,” Prowl said, with a . . . grimace? “Would you like to see it?”

“Yes please,” another of the humans, a scientist herself, said eagerly.

“. . . Very well. This first door leads to Perceptor's lab. His specialties are metallurgy, electrical engineering, and additional sciences closely related to Cybertronian physiology, though he is somewhat a scientific jack-of-all-trades.”

Prowl hailed Perceptor over the comm and, receiving a do-not-disturb signal in response, turned again to the humans. “He is currently occupied, so we shall return here later. This last door is the lab of Wheeljack, our mechanical engineer and scientist. Quite frankly, he is a -”

Prowl was cut off mid-sentence as the door opened, Jazz diving through as it closed and darting to his bondmate’s side just before a blast door cut the lab off from the rest of the Ark. Receiving an all too common transmission from the CSO, the CTO shook his helm in exasperation. Addressing their visitors, he said, “In about three seconds you are going to hear a very loud noise. Do not be alarmed.”

‘Three. . .’ Jazz mouthed, counting down on his digits.

‘Two. . .’

‘One. . .’

BOOM!

Most of the humans screamed or yelped despite the warning, before turning on Jazz and demanding an explanation.

“Didn't Prowler tell ya? ‘Jack's ah mad scientist!”


	4. That's what he said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's what he said. Must include at least Ratchet. Your character must be ranting about "that's what he said."

Jazz crept stealthily down the hall, employing all his skills as Commander of Special Ops to avoid detection. Having nearly escaped the high-risk area, he allowed himself to release slightly his stalled vent-

CLANG!

“And just where do you think you're going?”

“Owww,” Jazz whined. “Tha' hurt Ratch'.”

“Shut it, you,” the medic ordered with no trace of sympathy as he retrieved his wrench, seized the saboteur by the audial horn, and dragged him into the depths of the very place he had been so desperately trying to avoid – the Medbay, lair of the Hatchet, dreaded by all aboard-

“Stop being overdramatic. There is _nothing_ threatening about the Medbay.”

“Ah beg t' differ,” Jazz muttered, a wary optic on The Wrench.

“There wouldn't be anything to differ on if you just showed up for post-mission checks like you're supposed to instead of trying to avoid it.”

“But Ah'm fine!”

Ratchet snorted, gesturing over his shoulder at the mech on the berth behind him. “Yeah? That's what he said.”

“Hey Jazz,” Wheeljack greeted, waving with the one arm that was still attached. 


	5. Knitting

“Prowler, ya know Ah love ya, bu' dear Primus, we need ta find a hobby for ya.”

The tactician, seated in the Rec Room, looked up at his bondmate. “I thought you would be pleased by my being here, considering how often you say I need to, ‘Get outta tha' office an' spend some time round the crew,’” he said in a near-perfect mimic of Jazz's accent. 

“Slag, Ah'll never understand how ya can do that,” Jazz marveled. “An' it don' count if ya still do work,” he retorted, snatching the datapad.

“Jazz, please return my datapad.”

The saboteur tapped his chin as though considering it, then grinned unrepentantly. “Nope. Anyway, don't ya have tha' thing with th' police department? Ya can have it when ya get back.”

*Work-life balance*

Prowl pulled into the designated parking space at the edge of the park and cut his engine, absently noting the elderly woman sitting on a bench nearby.

“Sorry you have to wait over here,” Graham Kasey* said, getting out of the passenger seat. He was one of the officers providing security for an event in the park and Prowl, in his capacity as occasional liaison to the local police department, was his ride for the day.

“It is no trouble,” the police car assured him. “My sensors are more than adequate to monitor from here, and it is rather pleasant to escape the Ark from time to time.”

Once the young man had made his way farther into the park, another voice spoke.

“Hello there,” the woman greeted from her seat, setting her project beside her for the moment. “You must be one of those transforming robots, the good ones.”

“I am a Cybertronian with the Autobot faction, yes.”

“What's your name, dear? I'm Virginia.”

“Prowl, ma'am.”

“My, so polite! Well then, Prowl, why don't you come out of that car and keep me company while you wait.”

Prowl obliged her, returning to root mode and sitting in the parking spot as she resumed working. 

“May I ask what you are doing?”

“Knitting. Come closer so you can watch properly while I tell you about it.

*k1, p1*

“Jazz?” Sideswipe called meekly. “Something's up with Prowl.”

“What'd ya do?” he asked, levelling the prankster with an unimpressed look.

“Nothing, I swear!” he protested. “Just. . . Come to the Rec Room and see for yourself.”

Following the red mech to the Rec Room, Jazz entered to the same scene that had the residents of the Ark so very perplexed, and which forced him to reset his optics to make sure he wasn't imagining it.   
“Prowler, what're ya doin'?”

“Were you not the one to say that I should find a hobby?”

“Well yeah, but Ah didn' expect knittin'!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Not likely to appear much again, if at all, I named Prowl's police officer buddy just in case he does show up later.
> 
> This one doesn't actually have a prompt; as a primarily textile and fibre artist, it's simply natural that I project onto one of my favourites.


	6. What kind of story do you want to hear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end notes for this chapter are important, so make sure you read them!

“Alrigh’, how'd ya like ta hear 'bout th' time-” 

~Too dark,~ Prowl said over the bond, sensing where Jazz was going and vetoing his story suggestion.

“Never mind then, this's one story tha'-”

~Too much death.~

“There was th' time-”

~And none of your fantastical embellishments either.~

~What're we supposed t' tell em if ya keep shootin' down all mah best stories?~ the saboteur complained. 

~They are children, Jazz!~ Prowl reminded his mate, indicating their spectators – a class of kindergarteners, waiting eagerly to hear a story about the Autobots. 

~Fine, we'll just ask them then.~ Turning to the audience, he posed his question. “Well, dear readers, what kinda story d'ya wanna hear?”

~And for the love of Primus, stop breaking the fourth wall!~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write a oneshot in my series of oneshots to ask for prompts for more oneshots? Yes, yes I did.
> 
> As Prowl helpfully pointed out, they can't just be any stories – not necessarily kindergarten-friendly, but I do want to keep this collection fairly light, and there are some things I simply will not write (ooh, I rhymed). So here are some requirements:  
> • Nothing mature or explicit - I'd like to keep everything at or below a mild T, and I don't write anything further than light making out or implied intimacy.  
> • Nothing too dark, either – we like our happy endings here, folks.  
> • No major character death - Fall-of-Praxus-style side characters? Fair game, but nothing like ’86, Animated, 2007 (you know Prowl was in it before they came up with the idea of a Decepticon cop car instead? – no hate to Barricade though, he's cool, and at least they didn't get the chance to butcher Prowl's character), or Cyberverse – in summary, #LetProwlLive (seriously though, why do they have to keep killing him?).  
> • Nothing sans Prowl×Jazz – it can be friendship, or pre-relationship, but they can't be with someone else or anything like that. See the story title for more.  
> • Please format the basic prompt as a one or two sentence summary, or important quote so I can use it for the title (refer to existing chapters for examples) followed by any further detail. 
> 
> Please also be aware that I may simply choose not to write your prompt – while I welcome your suggestions, I'm not going to write something I don't enjoy, that I'm not invested in, or that I have to force the idea for. It is not a judgement of your creativity, simply the whims of the plot bunnies. If, however, I do write your prompt, you get a shout-out in that chapter!
> 
> That being said, thank you in advance for allowing me to pick your brains, and let the creativity flow!


	7. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowers: Prowl was touched; just before leaving on his mission, Jazz had left a bouquet of lilies on his desk. Lilies were Prowl's favorite Earth plant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Primus, thank you SO MUCH for the amazing response to the request for prompts last chapter! Please know that I appreciate each and every suggestion, even if I don't get the chance to respond to your comment directly. I also have prompts from before that call, and I'm finding new ones on my own as well, so it may be some time before you see yours in writing. 
> 
> As the euphoria of posting a new story has started to wear off, expect chapters to come once, maybe twice a week. This is to pace myself, so that the prompts last longer and to make sure that if I run out of finished chapters, I have time to write more. It is also due to the fact that I cannot devote all my time to writing this, even if I had the inspiration and motivation. I have a couple of other fanfiction projects that I may or may not post once they reach that point that take up some of my writing time. I do have a job, and I'm also a multimedia artist (my area of expertise is textile and fibre arts) so that further detracts from my precious free time.
> 
> Again, thanks so much to everyone for the support; it means a lot!

“C'mon lover,” Jazz coaxed, drawing Prowl out from their quarters. “Let's get some Energon ‘fore Ah leave.”

Sitting to the side of the Rec Room, the two of them had their morning ration before heading to the entrance of the base so Jazz could leave for his mission. 

“Primus knows ya never remember or bother ta take breaks, so Ah asked Blue ta come drag ya outta yer office ta refuel. Love ya,” Jazz said, resting his forehelm to Prowl's. “Ah should be back in a couple days.”

“See you soon,” he murmured, watching as the saboteur transformed and drove away from the Ark before heading to his office to begin working. 

Keying the door open, Prowl gazed fondly at what sat upon his desk, knowing who had left the bouquet of lilies there. He and Jazz both favoured them, albeit for different reasons. 

While he was drawn to the simple elegance of their form, his mate was enamoured with the different meanings humans had assigned the flowers, all present in the vase before him. 

Devotion and drive, royalty and regal bearing, yellow and gold for good health, bright red for passion and love, Stargazer lilies for ambition and encouragement with a difficult challenge, and the Chinese belief of 100 years of love; all things, Jazz said, that described Prowl and everything he loved about the tactician.

A smile graced Prowl's faceplate as he stroked a delicate petal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know next to nothing about flower language, let alone how it varies between cultures (mostly just that my birth month flower is Sweet Pea, a little about roses, and what I learned from Run BTS Episode 99), but these were all results I found by Googling.


	8. Lookalike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no fan of Bayverse, but I enjoy this scenario far too much to not write my own version. Jazz is alive here, of course – what kind of monster do you take me for?

Sam Witwicky walked into the hangar, saw black and white plating with POLICE on it, and _screamed_.

“BARRICADE!”

Scrambling backwards, he tripped over his own feet and landed on his behind as “Barricade” stalked closer.

Kneeling to press a finger into his chest, the mech spat, “I am NOT that twisted slagger Barricade,” before straightening up and sweeping regally out of the hangar, doorwings rigid on his back.

“Nice goin',” a voice said, and Sam looked up to see Jazz, who he hadn’t even realized was there. “Ya made Prowler mad. It'll be real hard ta get 'im ta like ya now.”

“Who was that?” he asked, still scared out of his wits, but now because he had a twenty-foot-tall living robot personally mad at him.

“That was Prowl,” Sideswipe chimed in, popping in at the door. He paused for dramatic effect. “Optimus Prime's Second in Command and Chief Tactical Officer of the Autobots. And you just pissed him off but _good_.”

“Crap.”

Bonus

“Yep,” the red prankster agreed cheerfully. “That's usually my job.”


	9. Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once they had knocked down the wall between Prowl's quarters and Jazz's, the 2nd and 3rd in command had their own little kingdom in which they resided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slag, I am SO sorry! I was busting my aft all day trying to finish a piece enough that I could submit it for consideration for a show in time and completely forgot about this week's chapter. 12:15 am the next day isn't bad, though, right?

“Well tha's a problem,” Jazz quipped as he and Prowl gazed down the hallway, formerly leading to quarters including their own, and now a mess of twisted metal and debris.

“It would be just our luck that Officers' Quarters were in the most damaged area of the ship,” Prowl sighed as they made their way back to the main recreational room, which would now also have to function as the mess, besides being their temporary situation room. “Perhaps a surveillance drone will be able to get through and properly assess the damage.”

“At leas' there wasn' really a chance t' settle in an' unpack,” Jazz offered as they entered. “OQ's a write-off,” he informed Optimus. “Migh’ be able to clear it up some eventually, bu’ it's completely impassable.”

“I'll add it to the list,” their leader vented heavily, making a note of it.

After onlining, the crew's first priority had been to check critical elements such as the Medbay and fuel cells. Once confident the ship and everything on it wasn't all about to explode, and that Ratchet would be able to treat them if anything smaller did, they had been divided into teams and tasked with ascertaining what parts of the Ark were still workable. 

Unfortunately for the Autobot Command Couple (© Sideswipe, 1984. All rights reserved. Coming soon to a chapter near you.), their quarters were not. 

*Moving Day*

~Well tha's a problem,~ Jazz quipped again as he and Prowl gazed once more at the object of their mutual displeasure; this time, however, it was from opposite sides of a wall as they debated the best way to knock it down.

The section of quarters the officers had been relocated to, the level above the undamaged crew quarters, simply didn't have a big enough room for both of them. There was one suited for a larger mech, which was where they'd put Optimus for obvious reasons. Another had extra space, but Blaster got that one for his cassettes' sakes.

Which brought them back to the issue at servo.

*Home improvement shows*

It took some planning, and when asked how Jazz simply waggled his optic ridges and said, “Ops,” in the way that meant they probably didn't want to know, but once they had knocked down the wall between Prowl's new far-too-empty-without-Jazz-but-not-enough-space-for-him quarters and Jazz's new far-too-empty-without-Prowl-but-not-enough-space-for-him quarters next door, and after some very particular remodeling, the 2nd and 3rd in command had their own little kingdom in which they resided.


	10. Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jazz. You will tell me right now we are not stuck in a snowstorm."  
> "Umm… Ya told meh never ta lie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, these next two chapters might be my favourites.

It was nowhere near the kind of temperatures that would lead to any kind of lasting damage for a Cybertronian, but Praxians Did Not Like the cold – they and other winged frames ran slightly hotter than most and tolerated cold that much less; the lower the temperature dropped, the more it played games with the delicate sensors of their wings. Actual fliers had slightly different systems, necessitated by the temperature variances inherent to changing altitudes, but ground-bound mecha did not. 

Prowl revved his engine again in an attempt to stave off the chill. He was already tired and could not be bothered to spare a single ounce of patience for their current situation. 

~Jazz. You will tell me _right now_ we are _not_ stuck in a snowstorm.~

~Umm. . . Ya told meh never ta lie?~

With the way the wind was blowing new and old snow around, and the complete lack of shelter, they had refrained from transforming to keep the cold and moisture from getting into their systems.

They crept along until Jazz signalled him to stop.

~Why have we stopped? We are nowhere near the Ark,~ Prowl demanded.

~And in these conditions we ain't gonna make it,~ Jazz pointed out, ~but we are near a cave that's big enough t' hide in 'til the snow stops.~

~Fine.~

The saboteur led the way off the road, inch by inch, until they were in the cover of the trees and he transformed. (Their progress from there was only marginally faster.)

Easing through the brush against a cliff face, the two found themselves in a respectably-sized cavern. Certainly it was large enough for the two of them. Wearily, Prowl lowered himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall of the cave (sideways, as per the consequences of having doorwings, which at the moment far outweighed the benefits) while Jazz looked around a bit, scuffing at the ground with his pede.

“What are you doing?” Prowl asked tiredly as Jazz picked up a rock.

“Souvenir,” his mate shrugged.

“Really? You still do that? I hardly think this is an occasion worth remembering, Jazz.”

“In that case, would ya say yer tired of ma schist?” the saboteur asked, tossing the rock in his servo.

Prowl cracked a smile despite himself. Though it might surprise certain members of the crew ( _Sideswipe_ ), he did indeed have a healthy sense of humour, and particularly enjoyed wordplay. “That wouldn't be very gneiss of me, but yes.”

His mate gasped in mock offence. “Well! Sometimes Ah think ya take meh fer granite!”

“It is sedimentary, my dear Jazz – metamorphically speaking, of course.”

Their light banter was interrupted by the buzz of a joint comm call.

::Prowl? Jazz? Are you getting this?::

::We hear ya Blue.::

::Oh thank Primus, I was starting to to get worried. Are you okay? Where are you? You were supposed to be back hours ago and there's a really bad snowstorm going on right now. You're not out there, are you?::

::We know about the snowstorm,:: Prowl confirmed. ::We were delayed in departing to return and got stuck in it.::

::You must be freezing!:: the younger Praxian fretted. ::Are your doorwings okay Prowl?::

::I am alright Bluestreak,:: his brother reassured him. 

::We're waitin' it out in a cave. We'll come back when it's blown itself out,:: Jazz explained. 

::Assuming we are able,:: Prowl pointed out sourly. ::Neither of our alt modes are particularly suited to inclement weather, and more snow will have built up than we are able to traverse.::

::Optimus was supposed to be coming back too, but he waited to leave, and I know he got all the cold-weather upgrades. . .:: Bluestreak offered. 

Jazz sighed in resignation, leaving the brothers to converse as he opened a new comm line.

::Hey, Prime, can Ah ask a favour?::

Omake 

Absolutely no one faulted them for it, but Jazz wasn't sure he’d ever live down the embarrassment of their leader, the Prime himself, having to come pick them up like they were younglings stranded due to some act of stupidity. 

Prowl was just happy to get home. He was less pleased the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any excuse for puns. I'm not sorry.


	11. Sneeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just his kind of luck to get a cold after the blizzard he was stuck in. Prowl sneezed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place directly after the previous chapter, “Weather.”
> 
> Apologies for the drought, life's a slagger sometimes.

The situation Prowl now found himself in was by no means a guaranteed result of his recent circumstances. For a mech whose purpose was logic-based, the tactician considered irritably, the unexpected occurred far too often in his functioning. (He supposed that was what he got for having Jazz as his mate.)

The effect of the sub-zero temperatures on his sensors had caused minor coding errors that would soon correct themselves, the consequence for now being the erratic fluctuation of subroutines regulating simple functions such as expunging irritants from the nasal cavity, resulting in the incessant, unnecessarily strong, and superfluous repetition of such functions while still somehow allowing said irritants to accumulate. The uncontrolled activity also meant the pertinent circuits heating up which, while not particularly dangerous, was certainly quite uncomfortable.

In simpler terms, it was just his kind of luck to get a cold after the blizzard he was stuck in. Prowl sneezed again. The force of the recoil knocked his stylus onto the floor and he elected not to retrieve it for the sake of keeping his world level.

Ah, yes. The cold had also affected his equilibrium circuits. Mustn't forget _that_ inconvenient little detail.

The door to his office slid open and Jazz waltzed in, scooping up the tactician’s wayward tool and depositing it back on the desk. “Hey Prowler,” the saboteur greeted, seating himself on the edge. “Feelin' alright? Ya don' look so good.”

Prowl levelled his mate with an unimpressed glare. “This,” he ground out, “is _A_ _ll_. _Your_. _Fault_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to [rakketyrivertam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakketyrivertam/pseuds/rakketyrivertam) for their help figuring out the core basics of what makes Cybertronians sneeze – I was overthinking it. Go check out their work!
> 
> To further explain, Cybertronians don’t usually sneeze; irritants are normally flushed by cycling vents higher, like exhaling through your nose, since they don't need to breathe.


	12. Souvenir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz had an odd habit of collecting something from every mission he was a part of, and it overflowed his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful IRL friend [sparrowshellcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat) for their help in coming up with the items!

Walking into his office, Jazz frowned at his souvenir collection, which was starting to overflow his desk, and made a mental note to talk to Grapple about getting some display shelving installed. (Contrary to what one might hear around the Ark, Jazz did indeed have a proper, functioning office, but that was a story for another prompt.) 

Setting down the datapad in his servo, his digits danced over a gear he'd snatched from the Decepticon Medbay on a whim during an infiltration mission (everyone – especially Mirage and Bumblebee, the little slaggers – found it hilarious that he [subsequently failed to sneak away from their own Medbay after returning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173898/chapters/61104352)). 

There was the toy car a kindergartner had insisted on giving him after he saved their class from the school playground getting caught in the crossfire of a fight against the Decepticons, next to it a Rubik's Cube. He'd picked that one up after seeing it in a hobby shop window, which ended up leading him to be in the right place at the right time to interfere in Starscream's latest ill-conceived plot. Jazz glanced at the Coca Cola bottle on the corner of his desk, admiring how the light refracted through it; it had been snagged from a recycling facility the 'Cons had been messing around at (they still weren't sure what THAT had been about). It was acting as a paperweight for the postcard from Liechtenstein, which Fireflight had brought back when the Aerialbots had gone to deal with the European half of a Decepticon operation. 

He snagged an energon goodie from the ashtray he'd cleaned out and repurposed after it had gotten chipped on Sunstreaker's helm when Skywarp threw it and several other minor trinkets at them during a retreat (the more volatile of the Twins had NOT been happy about that).

Not all of them were technically from actual missions, either. Several were from notable occasions – there was a chunk of obsidian from the volcano the Ark was lodged in, an ammonite fossil from the cave where they'd first discovered the fossils that inspired the Dinobots, a smooth aventurine pebble he'd found when they went to the beach, and [a piece of schist from the cave he and Prowl had sheltered in that time they'd gotten stuck in a snowstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173898/chapters/62549893) chief among them (when he thought about it, he realized he had unwittingly started a rock collection).

Probably his favourite was a piece of red crystal, precisely the same hue as Prowl and Bluestreak's chevrons; noticed among the ruins of Praxus, just as he'd found their miraculously still-functioning frames. 

This one would remain on his desk. Along with the ashtray, he decided, tossing another goodie to Bluestreak as the younger mech entered his office.


	13. Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop coming in through my window.There’s literally a door right there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [MysteriousFire13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousFire13/pseuds/MysteriousFire13) for the prompt!
> 
> Not quite satisfied with this one; might come back at some point and beef it up.

Prowl opened his office door without looking, finishing his conversation with Keepsafe and Skyview about an ongoing case.

He spoke as it closed behind him, attention still on the datapad in his servo. “Jazz, stop coming in through my window. There is quite literally a door right there. And get your pedes off my desk.”

Pouting, Jazz did as he asked. “Ya weren't even lookin'!”

“I know you too well, now stop changing the subject. Again with the window?”

He shrugged. “More excitin'.”

“Well here is something else exciting you can do,” Prowl said, pulling the visored mech out of his chair. “Wait outside until my shift is over.”

With that, Jazz was left staring at the other side of a closed door. Sighing, he trudged into the main area and plopped down in a chair.

“Hey Jazz,” Quickdrive said as she passed with a stack of datapads. “Come in through the window again?”

He reluctantly resigned himself to the fact that this was his life when Speedstop, Raider, and Lockstep all asked him the same thing.


	14. Ark It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were ships, and then there was the Ark. And when the Autobots aboard set their collective minds to something, it got done.

::On my way to your office Prowl!:: Bluestreak chirped, heading towards Command.

::That won't be necessary,:: Prowl informed him.

He stopped in surprise, stepping to the side so he wasn't blocking the hallway. ::Why not?::

The older Praxian sighed. ::Unfortunately, due to the escalation in Decepticon attacks as of late, it does not seem there will be opportunity enough to make or carry out any plans. Go enjoy your break in the Rec Room,:: he urged.

*

Leaving the Ops Planning Room, Mirage paused as he passed by Jazz's office, hearing his superior and friend sigh forlornly. “Are you alright?” he asked, peering around the door. The Polyhexian was slumped at his desk, helm resting on crossed arms as he stared at a holocapture of himself and Prowl after their bonding.

“The Cons've been ah real pain in th' aft lately, an' only gettin' worse,” Jazz mumbled. “Ah won't be able t' do anythin' on Valentine's for Prowler, just haven't got time.” He sighed again.

Deciding against asking him to hang out over energon, the Ligier slipped away to the Rec Room.

*

“I haven't seen you in here much lately,” Mirage remarked, taking a seat at the same table as Bluestreak and sipping at his energon.

“Prowl canceled our lunch meeting,” the younger said, pensively stirring copper flakes into his own.

“Jazz effectively did the same. He's in a mood because all the Decepticon activity-"

“Has shut down his plans for Valentine's?” Bluestreak finished. “. . . I'm thinking we've got some planning of our own to do.”

Mirage raised his cube in a toast as matching sly grins appeared on both their faceplates. “They have taught you well.”

*

“What can I do for the two of you?” Optimus Prime asked as Mirage and Bluestreak walked purposefully into his office.

“The Decepticons have been an exceptional pain in the aft lately,” the spy announced without preamble.

“They always are, but yes, I see your point. Go on.”

“Prowl and Jazz are both really disappointed because all the Decepticon activity means neither of them will have the time to make or carry out their own plans for the other on Valentine's Day, so we wanted to get everyone else in on a plan to set something up for the two of them.”

Their leader nodded in consideration before speaking. “Quite frankly, I am shocked,” he said slowly, “. . . that you thought you’d need permission to do something for my Second and Third; the entire Ark, well, _ships it_.” His optics twinkled with mirth as he leaned forward conspiratorially. “So, what's the plan?”

*

“Hound, dearest,” Mirage purred as he entered their quarters.

The tracker looked up and smiled fondly. “I know that tone; you're plotting something,” he said. “What is it?”

“We,” he announced, “are going to make sure our Second and Third get the Valentine's Day they deserve, seeming Decepticon intentions to the contrary be slagged.”

“And who is ‘we’?”

“Myself, Bluestreak, and anyone else we can get involved. You and Beachcomber, for example, are going to spend the nature survey you're leaving for tomorrow looking for a spot where two bots can have a romantic dinner together.”

*

“No, no, absolutely not!” Red Alert snapped, hitting Prowl's servo away from the new deliveries as he went to inspect them. “You know even inside deliveries can never be entirely trusted, let alone ones from outside. I will take these as usual and release them to the recipients once I am certain they will lead to minimum chaos.” He grabbed the crates and marched decisively into the Ark, meeting Inferno in the Security Room.

“Did you get them?” the fire truck asked, removing a number of empty delivery boxes from his subspace and stacking them on the floor.

“Of course,” he scoffed, passing over the ones he was carrying. “Now, I've cleared _last week's packages that were delivered when Prowl was away_ , so if you wouldn't mind passing them out?”

*

“Do you have any idea what Sideswipe is up to?” Prowl asked Jazz as the pair settled into their quarters for the night, practically the only time they were able to spend together lately.

“Haven't the foggiest,” the saboteur answered truthfully. “Been actin' like he does when he's workin' on a new batch o' highgrade.”

“The air of secrecy would suggest otherwise, since he is fully licensed to do so.”

“No parties bein' planned either,” Jazz said. “Not like we've got the time, but even if we did Ah'd know about it.”

“In truth,” Prowl said wearily, “if no harm comes of it, investigating at the moment is far from worth the trouble.”

*

“Ey ‘Raj, whatcha doin?” Jazz asked, poking his helm into the galley.

The spy waved him away dismissively, remaining bent over a batch of energon goodies.

“Any special requests this time?” the TIC wondered curiously, peering over his shoulder at the rust sticks and energels, all basic day-to-day recipes.

“How's this for a special request; out of my kitchen!” he snapped irritably, gesturing with his whisk and spattering Jazz with specks of calcium cream.

“Alrigh', alrigh', Ah'm goin',” he said, backing out of the room with his servos held up in surrender.

Once he was gone, Mirage vented in relief and pulled out what he'd actually been working on. Thankfully he was able to hide it before Jazz came in, and get rid of the saboteur before he noticed there had, in fact, been no whipped topping on the decoys.

*

Prowl finally moved from the stacks of reports on his desk when he received a ping on his HUD indicating his fuel levels had dropped below 40%. Normally he was perfectly able to continue working until it was below 25%, but given the recent spate of Decepticon activity that had given him all that work, he had reluctantly resolved to keep his energon reserves at what Ratchet very pointedly called normal levels, in the event that there was an attack.

Despite the demands of his frame, the tactician really didn't have any time to spare, so he continued to read from the datapad in his servo as he walked towards the Rec Room, taking a route that would be the least crowded at this time of day. On the occasion that his doorwings did pick up someone else, he flicked them briefly in acknowledgment without looking up to see who it was or bothering to reach out with his EM field.

This proved to be his downfall, as an unnoticed servo grabbed him by the shoulder strut and dragged him into the Medbay.

“Ratchet,” Prowl greeted. “Is there some urgent matter?”

“You are long overdue for a maintenance appointment and I will not have it put off a nanosecond longer.”

“Surely it can wait,” he tried in vain. “I really must refuel and return to my work.”

The medic wordlessly swapped the datapad in the SIC's servos for a cube of energon before tossing the report onto his desk through his open office door and dragging Prowl into the Medbay.

“Thank you Swoop,” Ratchet said to the Dinobot, who was just closing a newly-organized cabinet. “I'll call if I need you again, but you should get going for that flying session. Drop that box off with Wheeljack on your way please?”

*

“Bee, good,” Jazz said, running into the mini bot in the hallway. “I need-”

“Sorry boss, gotta go,” Bumblebee interrupted. “Prime already gave me the all-clear to be the humans' ride for the next couple of days, since the Decepticons are due to stir up more trouble any day now.” He darted down the hallway without waiting for a response, and the saboteur was accosted by Wheeljack before he could chase after him.

“Jazz! There you are!” he said, helm fins flashing cheerfully. “Come with me, I’ve got some new gadgets for Ops I need you to test!”

As much as Jazz enjoyed Wheeljack's company and appreciated his inventions when they worked, nobody wanted to test them alone. But the Ark seemed deserted of other bots to join him as he was ushered down to the labs.

Swoop exited as they came in, carrying a large box.

“Thanks kiddo,” the inventor said, patting his psuedo-creation affectionately on the arm. “Take that to Ratchet then have fun flying with the others, okay? And Mirage said he had snacks for you guys.”

*

Bumblebee hurried to the entrance of the Ark, nodding to the mecha on sentry duty before glancing over his shoulder strut and sneaking around the mountain to the flyers' hangar.

“Ready to go?” Silverbolt asked as Swoop arrived and subspaced the crate of supplies.

“Definitely,” he said. “You can still drop me off closer to town when we're done before you go flying, right?”

“Assuming Swoop can manage these maniacs on his own for ten minutes,” the Aerialbot leader said, glancing dryly at his brothers.

*

Jazz glanced balefully around Skyfire's passenger hold, also occupied by Prowl and Bluestreak. Slagging Cons and their slagging schemes slagging with a mech's carefully wrought plans. Thanks to them, here he was; enroute to a newly sprung up hotspot of Decepticon activity spotted that afternoon by the Aerialbots on Valentine's Day evening, wanting nothing more than to be able to ditch the younger Praxian and their ride to spend time with his mate.

Don't get him wrong, he loved the kid like his own, and Skyfire was a pretty cool mech (being frozen in ice didn't hurt that fact either, he snickered to himself), but Primus if he wouldn't kill to get a peaceful evening alone with Prowl.

Without warning, Skyfire made a hard bank left, the momentum sending Jazz lurching into the subject of his musings.

::Skyfire, what is happening?:: Prowl asked.

::I've got a Seeker on my tail,:: the shuttle reported, going into evasive maneuvers after warning them to hold on. ::I'll have to drop you off farther away than planned to deal with them.::

*

As they crept through the forest, Jazz stopped and held up a servo. “Ah don' think the seeker came alone,” the saboteur said in a whisper, Bluestreak drawing his weapon in response.

“You and Prowl go ahead,” he said, settling between the rocks where he had a good view of the way they'd come. “I'll follow you once I know we're clear.”

The Porsche and the Datsun forged ahead, their pace becoming more cautious as they caught sight of lights through the trees, far closer than their target should have been. What they found when they stepped into the clearing, however, was far removed from their expectations.

They stood in a small forest glade, circled by strings of fairy lights. Two beanbag-type chairs, heaped with mesh blankets, sat on either side of a low table, upon which were set several cubes of energon and a wide assortment of goodies. Music played softly from a stereo jazz recognized as belonging to Blaster, a mix of Earth music and Cybertronian ballads.

“Well, Ah guess this is why everyone's been actin’ sketchy lately,” he said, turning to look at Prowl. “Before the Con activity ramped up-”

“Bluestreak was helping plan something for you.”

“-Mirage was helpin' meh plan ah surprise.”

The tactician broke into a rare smile, taking his mate's servo in his own. “Shall we enjoy what they were thoughtful enough to set up then?”

*

“Well?” Starscream asked Skyfire, fluttering his wings coyly as they stood together on the mountainside with a distanced view of the clearing. “Has the seeker been dealt with to your satisfaction?”

“Not even close,” the shuttle said softly, pulling him over to a natural seat formed by the slope and producing two cubes of highgrade. “I have to thank him for helping, after all.”

“Getting to spend some time alone with you is more than enough thanks.”

*

Bluestreak waited until Prowl and Jazz had moved out of sensor range, then subspaced his rifle and set off back the way he'd come. As he moved through the trees, Ravage melted out from between them to keep pace with him.

“They're off to their dinner then?” she asked.

“Yep. Thanks for helping out,” he said, transforming as they came to the road and opening a door. “Want a ride to your own date?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” the panther claimed, even as she got in.

They made small talk until the Ark was in sight, at which point he let out the cassette, who slunk into the shadows to join a similarly-shaped silhouette. Driving up to the entrance, he was greeted by Mirage and Hound arriving from their outing. He knocked fists with the spy in congratulations for a plan well executed went in search of his own date.

*

“. . . so once Bluestreak and Mirage got permission, they involved everyone else. Hound and Beachcomber found the perfect spot, Sunstreaker designed the setup and ordered the supplies, Red Alert used his package inspection rules to get them past Prowl once they arrived so Inferno could hand them out, everything was hidden in Wheeljack's lab once ready since most don't go in there unless they have to, Swoop got the supplies to the location, Bumblebee got it set up, Ratchet and Wheeljack kept Prowl and Jazz occupied respectively while they were doing that, the Aerialbots reported the ‘Decepticon activity’ that needed them and Bluestreak to be investigate, Skyfire was ‘forced’ to drop them off early because Starscream was ‘attacking’, then Bluestreak split off from them to ‘take care of’ Ravage, and Trailbreaker coordinated the whole thing so Prowl and Jazz didn't find out. I only wish we could spend some time together as well.”

Listening to Optimus relate the series of events to her, Elita One laughed. “Patience, my love. We'll be able to commandeer the Spacebridge again soon.”

They pressed their digits together through their screens, the light years between them little more than a window for a brief moment.


	15. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally didn't throw this together last minute because I forgot about Family Day because I was focused on the Valentine's chapter since it was literally yesterday. . .

Sideswipe meandered into Tactical, peered into Prowl's office and, not seeing the SIC, checked the full duty roster just inside the door.

“Hello Sideswipe.”

He yelped, throwing the datapad in his surprise as Prowl appeared behind him and caught it in a white servo. “Primus, would you stop doing that?”

“Stop doing what?” the Praxian asked mildly, returning the roster to its proper place. “Ratchet gets out of Medbay at six, Wheeljack is in his lab until the same time except for a two-hour meeting with Perceptor and Skyfire at three, and their brood are all off-duty by half past five.”

The crimson frontliner gaped. “How did you- Right. You always know what's going on.”

“Actually, Streetwise and Slash simply beat you to it – they should be back in several breems if you would like to coordinate with them. Skydive as well, though he wanted to know when the Aerialbots would be able to drop off their thank you gifts. You can wait over there,” he said, disappearing into his office.

*

“SOUNDWAVE!” Megatron bellowed.

“Ah, Lord Megatron?” Starscream said tentatively, entering the room.

“What.”

“Soundwave left the base with his cassettes earlier after obtaining your permission to do so,” the seeker reminded him.

“And I suppose you're here to let me know that your trine wishes to do the same,” he grumbled. “Fine, just get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

He was gone almost before the Decepticon leader finished giving him leave.

“So, Skywarp,” Thundercracker asked the youngest of their trine as the seekers soared away from the Nemesis. “Where do you want to go?”

*

Soundwave reclined against a simply enormous tree, keeping a careful optic on Ratbat splashing in the shallows of the lagoon. He was much less concerned with Rumble and Frenzy’s whereabouts; risky as allowing them to wander might be, at far greater risk was his sanity should he attempt to keep constant track of the terrors. At any rate, it wasn't as though they were _completely_ untrustworthy – they were most likely just exploring the caves that dotted the cliffside.

Ravage catnapped in a patch of sunlight nearby, and every so often Laserbeak and Buzzsaw could be heard in the trees as one of them returned to show off something interesting they'd found before heading back out.

It was his second-eldest creation that had discovered the hidden cove; it had absolutely zero strategic value for the Decepticons, so really, he could be excused for not telling Megatron about it – even if only to have a private place to spend time with his family.

*

::Ratchet, come quick! In the Den!::

At his apprentice's panicked call, Ratchet dropped the last of the tools he was putting away and hurried for the cavern that had been designated as the Dinobots' quarters, affectionately titled the Dino Den. His processor ran through any number of things that could have happened to leave First Aid, quickly becoming an accomplished medic in his own right, in such a panic.

As he burst through the door, however, he found himself guided to a seat next to Wheeljack against Sludge's side, prevented from getting up by the brontosaur's tail across their laps.

“I- First Aid!” he snapped, noticing the younger ambulance standing with his gestaltmates. “What is going on?”

Smiling sheepishly, he pointed at Sideswipe, who grinned and slung an arm around his twin's shoulder struts.

“Surprise?” he offered. “We decided it would be nice to do something together.”

“Who exactly is we?” Wheeljack queried, his view of the room rather limited by the dinosaur at his back.

“Me, Swoop, Slag, Snarl, Sludge, Grimlock, Groove, Blades, First Aid, Hot Spot, Streetwise, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker. And Silverbolt came with Skydive to drop off something from the Aerialbots,” Slash volunteered.

“That reminds me,” Streetwise said, looking over from where he was setting up the projector. “Why in the world do three quarters of us have S names?”

*

“Coooooach,” Eject complained.

“What is it?” Blaster asked, looking down at him and Rewind from where he sat at the edge of the fairground.

“We got any more tickets?”

“I gave you plenty,” he pointed out, even as he withdrew the last couple of strips from his subspace. “Offer these to Steeljaw and Ramhorn first, you hear? And don’t spend too much longer; we still have to go do an escape room like they wanted.”

*

“It's your turn, old friend,” Optimus said, moving his game piece.

Ironhide promptly made his move and laughed triumphantly. “I win again!” He looked at the other mecha around the table and shook his helm in mock disappointment. “Younglings these days. No patience for the long game.”

Ever so mature, Bumblebee stuck his glossa out. “Not my fault you’ve been playing for twice as long as I’ve been functioning; you taught both of us! You can’t seriously expect us to win.”

Ironhide allowed his mischievous side to shine through and stuck out his own glossa as Optimus reset the board. “Part of mah job description ta make fun of you fer things you can't help.”

*

“C'mon Blue,” Jazz said from the edge of the shooting range, where the gunner was just finishing up his practice. “Prowl an' Smokey are waitin' for us.”

Subspacing his rifle, Bluestreak went with the saboteur into the Ark via the back route he teeeeechnically wasn't supposed to know about (not that Jazz had ever shied away from letting him into Ops-only spaces, even as a sparkling). They passed the Dino Den, where the faint sounds of a movie and lots of laughter came through the walls. The inner door of the hangar was open, revealing that the Aerialbots, Silverbolt, and Sky Lynx had gone out. It wasn’t long before they entered the galley, where Prowl and Smokescreen had set out an assortment of ingredients, and set to cooking.

“Thank you for showing me how to make these Praxian and Polyhexian recipes,” he said afterwards, as they enjoyed the fruits of their labours.

“Of course,” Prowl said fondly, touching chevrons with his younger brother. “It is, after all, the humans' Family Day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Headcanons abound!
> 
> To elaborate, Prowl technically had two offices, being both CTO and SIC, but the SIC office was repurposed after they all woke up, while the CTO office was expanded and received heavily upgraded security measures. So Prowl can sit in his office and keep an optic on his Tactical minions, then lock it down for a top-secret Command meeting in the same afternoon.
> 
> Yep, this little piece of continuity soup of mine includes Slash, albeit a mostly headcanon version of the character, because I'm in love with the idea of the main five Dinobots being super overprotective (and unnecessarily so) of their kick-aft little sister.
> 
> Finally, a rundown of the family groups, all of which I hope to elaborate on at some point.  
> • Smokescreen, Prowl, and Bluestreak are brothers; Jazz and Prowl are sparkmates and raised Bluestreak since he was just a sparkling when Praxus fell.  
> • The Twins were younglings when they came to the Autobots; Ratchet's their uncle (carrier's brother), so he and Wheeljack took care of them.  
> • The Dinobots, Protectobots, and Aerialbots are each a little group of siblings; the first two are essentially Ratchet and Wheeljack's creations, while everyone pitched in with the Aerialbots.  
> • The Dinobots are good big brothers to the gestalts and Slash, who was created between the two groups.  
> • Soundwave and his cassettes. Ravage is first, followed by Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, then Rumble and Frenzy (Team RIBFIR here, btw), and Ratbat is the baby of the family. Soundwave likes to say the oldest two got all the sense, which is why they're his only femmes.  
> • The Decepticon Command Trine; Starscream is leader, Thundercracker is his second and mates with Skywarp.  
> • Blaster and his cassettes. Ramhorn then Steeljaw, with Eject and Rewind as the youngest.  
> • Bumblebee is Optimus and Elita's creation; Ironhide and Chromia are his designates (my Cybertronian equivalent of godparents). Ironhide taught Optimus, and later Bee, the game they were playing.  
> • Prowl has a special soft spot for Skydive, Streetwise, and Slash, his younger Tactical minions.


End file.
